All He Ever Wanted (ORIGINAL)
by Ethan-Silas
Summary: Draco Malfoy, left to live in a muggle flat smaller than a cheerio, runs into the Golden Trio ten years after the Battle of Hogwarts at a muggle bus station. When Harry Potter follows him home, they catch up a bit, and they find out that straight men can want other men, too.
1. Chapter 1

Draco Malfoy took one last drag from his cigarette before letting it drop to the ground and grinding it with his too-expensive dress shoes.

"You know," he murmured to no one but himself. "For someone reduced to living in a muggle flat, getting paid next to nothing in a shitty ministry job," Draco glanced at himself in the old, crappy see-through bus stop plastic wall. "I still look like a rich kid,"

"-that Draco Malfoy?" an oddly familiar voice asked from behind him, one that Draco couldn't quite place, and he turned before growing neon in the lightless evening.

It was Harry Potter, and Ron Weasley, with his arm around Grang- no, that was a wedding band on her finger. Hermione Weasley.

Draco quickly looked away, so as to look like he hadn't heard them and was simply looking around. He'd fallen too far from grace to care if they had an opinion on him, here in this poor muggle town, taking a bus home.

They walked past him, Ron eyeing him, and sat inside the actual bus stop. Draco lit another cigarette.

Unfortunately, the bus wasn't scheduled for another half hour, and Draco's feet soon began to ache.

"Ron," Harry said a few minutes after they'd sat. "Do you have the bag with my takeout, or do I?"

Ron rummaged through a plastic bag until pulling out a fast food sandwich and chicken nuggets, which he handed to Harry.

"Stuff isn't good for you," Draco found himself saying. Harry, who sat on the other side of the booth- thing that Draco knew not the proper name of.

"I don't eat it often," Harry said, and through his peripherals Draco saw the green eyed boy- or, rather, man- watching him. He turned to look at them.

Hermione was closest to him, the girl he used to fancy. Her hair, once a deep chocolate, looked a bit lighter, a bit greyer. Her face was fast aging for a twenty seven year old, though she looked at oldest mid thirties and seemed quite happy. She wore a light pink sweater in the early fall chill, with a blue shirt peeking above it. Blue jeans too short on the legs showed older socks and newer sneakers. Her fingers were painted a nice autumny orange, and had what seemed to be a semi-expensive manicure. Her hair, while still frizzy, was done up. She looked like a middle class mom, and Draco supposed that she probably was.

Ron was in the middle, his red hair short, a small amount of facial hair making him seem somewhat more attractive. He wore just a blue polo and long, durable looking jeans, and manly boots. He, too, looked happy, and time had seemingly done him well. There were crows feet by his eyes, and somehow, he looked very fatherly to Draco. An expensive watch sat on his freckled wrist, and Draco could imagine Hermione with two or three little ones, picking out a nice new watch for Daddy's birthday. He kept his smile in his own mind.

And, finally, Harry Potter. His hair wasn't any shorter, nor any more tame, though it sat in a more tired, less offensive way. His glasses were the same, though to Draco's relief, held not the tape they once had. His face had changed, becoming rounder, his eyes more significant, a shadow of an unshaved beard dressed his cheeks, his nose looking like it'd been broken once or twice more in the years since Draco had last seen him. His face was softer, more gentle, like he did not, any longer, carry the stress he once had, and Draco found himself hoping that that was true. He wore a simple black t-shirt, too large for him as he'd always worn, under a familiar dark blue jacket with an even darker blue stripe around the waist, and he, too, wore jeans. Simple black sneakers adorned his feet. Had he not known it to be true, Draco would've never guessed that this boy was the Chosen One, the Boy Who Lived, the richest wizard from the world Draco could barely manage to stay a part of.

Draco didn't let his eyes linger on the man any longer, for he feared to realize he still had those strong, terrifying feelings for him. He didn't know, on a conscious level, that this was the reason his eye refused to stay locked with Harry's, and he didn't particularly want to know why his stomach was twisting and revolting in his abdomen. He hadn't eaten in, what, almost two days? He busied himself with lighting a cigarette while reminiscing on the days in which Mother would make him the best home cooked meals, whatever he fancied having that day. He, once again, found himself missing his parents, missing the Manor, missing his old life. But he'd made a resolution. This was his self-sentenced punishment for what he'd done and what he simply couldn't be.

"That's not particularly good for you, either," Harry spoke up, motioning to his almost burned-out cigarette, and bringing Draco out of his thoughts. Draco got a small, amused grin; only, amusement wasn't the proper word. Self-deprecation? Resolve? Pain? Yes, those worked.

"Don't you know that you have a lot more to live for than me, Potter?" He regretted the words as soon as they came out of his mouth, but he laughed it off, grinding his cigarette into the pavement.

"Why do you say that?"

Draco laughed again, this one truly being amused. His head rose up from it's usual spot, down, and he laughed, closed-eyed, to the colorless sky. Then, however, his head dropped slowly, the smile fading into a shadow of pain.

"I wonder," he whispered softly.

Ron cleared his throat uncomfortably. He was staring out in front of him, face an odd expression of someone who didn't know how to react. Hermione was staring at him with wide eyes, eyes full of what some people would call sympathy, and the exact thing Draco took as pity. He looked away before he could sneer. Him, Draco Malfoy, being pitied by a mudblood. In another life, he would've laughed. But here and now, he didn't have the energy.

It was silent between the four magical amigos until the late bus pulled up. Draco boarded first, wondering dryly to himself whether or not Harry would be checking out his bum.

Draco sat in the front. He would've preferred the back; however, as he was searching for some muggle money, Hermione paid for her, her husband and her friend, and Harry lead them to the back of the nearly empty bus.

So, Draco found a cozy spot in between them and the snoring old man two rows from the front. His seat was worn and scratchy, and he wished he'd just slept at Blaise's; however, Astoria, Draco's ex and Blaise's fiancee, had come home. Draco didn't particularly fancy her much anymore.

It was probably forty five minutes of staring emotionlessly out the window until Draco was nearly home. He got out quickly, pulling his suit jacket closed, and walked so quickly and thoughtlessly that he failed to notice someone following him.

He slipped into his apartment building, and up the steps towards the shittiest flat within flying distance of London. There were exactly two rooms; one room, maybe three meters by three meters, which served as a kitchen, dining room, living room and bedroom, and a meter by meter bathroom. He owned only a bed, a pillow, and a blanket, and had been more than thankful when the flat had come with an oven, sink, microwave, fridge and, unlike many other apartments he could've afforded, a shower and toilet.

"Draco," he heard as he fumbled with the key to his flat, and he startled, dropping the key and letting out a string of curses. Before he could process what had happened, other than him dropping his keys, Harry's black head dropped into his vision, and after a moment, Harry was but a handful of centimeters away, holding Draco's keys with an awkward smile.

"Potter?" Draco asked, having to look down probably the same distance as Harry was away from him. How long ago it was that Draco was a tad shorter than Harry.

"You can call me Harry, you know," He said.

Harry. It was so recent, to Draco, that Harry was calling him Malfoy and hating Draco's very guts, just as Draco had pretended to do to him.

And suddenly all those stray thoughts, those late night longings, those painful itching needs that plagued him still grabbed hold of him, and Draco took a step closer to Harry.

"Potter-" Draco gasped almost angrily, as Harry leaned back, obviously uncomfortable with the current situation.

And with that, Draco lost every ounce of courage he had just had. He stepped back, eyes closed, until he heard Harry unlocking the flat for him.

"May I come in?" Harry asked as Draco walked into his tiny flat.

"If you must," muttered Draco, examining the black carpet, grey walls, white cabinets and the clothes folded on the floor.

"How's Ginny?" asked Draco just to distract from his shitty cheerio sized apartment.

"Oh. We... We're not-" Harry looked away, turning his body slightly. "We're divorcing. She- she got the kids."

Draco looked quickly at Harry, pondering this.

"What are they like?" Draco managed after but a moment. "The children."

Harry laughed softly, sitting on the bed without permission. "Well, James is the oldest, he's five. He's very- bold. Silly. Bossy. He loves Quidditch. Albus, he's only three, but he's very smart. Lily, she's two, and she's very girly and quiet and easy to handle." Harry looked up at Draco. "What about you? Do you have..." Harry just glanced around the flat, suddenly pink in the cheeks.

"Yeah. Scorpius. He's, uh, three now. He lives with my mother and father, because I'm not a good father and Astoria... She just wants to forget me, I suppose." Draco smiled softly. "He looks like me."

Harry looked up at Draco, smiling slowly. It seemed as if both of them were searching for something to say, but neither of them really found anything, not for a while.

"Are you hungry? Thirsty?" Draco finally managed. His hosting skills were so pitiable they weren't even close to subpar.

"I could do with some water, if you would," Harry said, watching as Draco got two classes from the cupboard and poured Harry some tap water, himself some scotch.

"Rough day?" Harry asked, sipping from the thick, short glass he'd received.

"Rough decade," laughed the host into his own glass before downing half of it, not taking notice to the taste or the sting.

"What happened to you, Malfoy?" Harry asked, and Draco let loose a dry, humorless, bitter laugh.

"I don't know, Potter." Draco smiled at the floor beneath Harry's feet. "I wish I knew."

Harry shifted uncomfortably before pulling Draco by the shirt sleeve, only a tentative tug. Draco blinked, downed the rest of his alcohol, and sat next to Harry.

"I'm sorry, Draco," Harry whispered, voice cracking.

Once again, Draco found himself laughing. "What ever for, Potter?" Suddenly, the bitterness from his Hogwarts years overloaded him, and when he managed to subside it, the look on Harry's face spoke enough.

"For that," His voice was gentle, but then, he gave a quiet laugh. "I hated you, too."

"I never hated you, Potter. Despised you? Maybe. Envied you? Wanted- well, I don't know what I wanted, but I never hated you."

Potter looked up as soon as Malfoy said 'wanted'. "You envied me?" He questioned, though it didn't seem to be his main question.

"You were perfect. The Chosen One, the Quidditch star, the good boy everyone loved. How could someone- especially someone like how I was- not be jealous of that?"

"How you were?" Harry looked confused, sad, and some other thing Draco was too tired to place.

"I've grown up, if only a slight bit." Draco was contemplating politely asking Harry to leave, so that he could sleep, when he felt a hand on his arm. To remove it, he pulled off his suit jacket and tossed it to the clothes basket.

"You seem much more grown up," Harry said, a bit of humor in his voice as he appraised Draco. Dimly, Draco pictured himself and imagined what Harry would be seeing.

His hair was shorter, once again slicked out of his face, and his eyes were the same old dull grey orbs, reminiscent of the smoke that came from his squares. His face was older, harsher, and more manly, and by now a light, hueless shadow would be forming on his cheeks. He was taller, though still quite thin, and despite the pain and maturity that now poisoned his face, Draco imagined Harry still saw the same old Malfoy he once had.

"Is that a compliment?" Draco asked, looking at Harry. Sitting down, they were about the same height. A brilliant smile overcame Harry's face, and Draco was struck with the same awkwardness that Harry had carried all through Hogwarts. The Boy Who Lived hadn't changed any.

"If you'd like it to be one," Harry said. Draco got a small smile and found his eyes wandering away from Harry once more. He'd developed an issue with eye contact, and bitterly he rubbed the Mark, the one ignorant muggles constantly complimented, when they saw it. How vile they were.

"I think I would," Draco said, voice barely audible. Harry's smile fell.

"Draco..."

"Don't"

"Don't what?"

"Just, don't."

Harry looked at Draco, almost desperate, before a familiar look, albeit one he'd never seen on his once-enemy, crossed Harry's face, one that the blonde didn't have time to process before soft, cool lips found his own. Draco sucked in air through his nose, eyes squeezing shut, as the raven haired man continued to kiss him, wet lips closing around Draco's unresponsive ones, Harry's hands moving to Draco's cheek, Draco's hair.

This was all he'd ever wanted; his only rival.

Finally, Draco found it in him to kiss the boy- man- back. He wrapped his arms around Harry, one around his waist, one on his upper back, bent up into his hair. Their tongues were like waves on a shore, their mouths moving in a way Draco'd never experienced, not even with the mother of his child.

They drank from each other, sloppily, desperately, needily. Draco somehow ended up lying beneath Harry, who moaned and groaned and gasped and whimpered. Draco stroked Harry's back sensually, making him shiver, pushing his shirt up to his shoulders. Harry clutched onto Draco's hips, grinding his nails desperately into the taller man's flesh, much to Draco's pleasure. He growled into Harry's mouth and, in a far-away mind, wondered who'd be the catcher in this particular arrangement.

He soon found his answer when Harry rolled off of Draco, pulling the latter with him, and wrapped his legs around the same waist he continued to claw.

"How far can I go," grumbled Draco a bit later, after he'd begun to throb against his pants. His voice was alien to himself, deep, guttural and needy.

"All the way," breathed Harry, eyes almost as drunk as Draco's. His green eyes were fluttering, and his hips were writhing gently under Draco. His chest expanded and deflated at an alarming rate, and his mouth was still half open. Draco got a small smile, straight from the heart, the kind where his eyes scrunched up and his heart tickled. He gently pulled off Harry's glasses before pulling off his own shirt. Thin muscles, barely there, dressed his thin figure like knotted sinew under his skin. He gently pulled off Harry's polo, laughing as it caught on his ear, and feeling his stomach flutter as Harry laughed, too. Harry- sheepishly- took hold of Draco's belt and began to undo it.

"I've never- done- anything… With a guy." Harry breathed, face suddenly full of anxiety and doubt.

"Me, either," said Draco as Harry pushed his slacks down. Draco moved to the edge of the bed to remove his shoes, his socks, and his slacks, so he was left in only his pants, a deep navy blue, with a certain extremity fighting to be free. Then, he turned to see Harry in only what must be a pair of y-fronts, but looked a bit like knickers. They were bright red- almost pink, and Draco got a small smile… Until he noticed the socks still on Harry's feet.

"Why're you wearing socks still?"

"What?" Harry asked, then glanced down and shrugged. With a sigh, Draco moved to Harry's feet and pulled off his socks. Luckily, for Draco, his feet weren't gross or peculiar; in fact, they were almost cute, or at least as cute as feet could get.

"Nothing," Draco grinned out before kneeling before Harry, who was on his back. "Do I need- lubricant?" Draco pondered.

"I'd bloody well think so," Harry scoffed, causing Draco to laugh.

"Does saliva work for that? Or do I- I don't have anything else…"

"Just…" Harry looked uncomfortable. "Do you have a pre-lubricated condom?"

"I don't have any condom," Draco said with a frown. Harry sighed.

"Then, yeah- I reckon spit would work."

Draco put his hands softly on Harry's knees, a bit sad to see his partner's erection waning. He stroked up Harry's legs, feeling the hair brushing his hand in an odd way he'd never felt before, then whisked over his box, almost teasingly, and brushed over his hairless tummy, and over his gentle, skin colored nipples, to put his arms in between Harry's body and his arms.

Harry's chest had a bit of fuzz on it, his build on the thinner side of average, his skin on the tanner side of peach. Draco smiled, kissing Harry's collarbone, as Harry's hands found Draco hair and buried his fingers in it, finally destroying it. Draco kissed up Harry's neck, to his mouth, and drank from him more until Harry was once again a rock against Draco's lower abdomen, and once again a moaning, whimpering mess, then trailed down to his chest, paying just a bit of tongueless attention to the peaks standing out of his chest. He watched as Harry's brow twisted, eyes closing, breathing sharply through his mouth, moaning and a bit unsure of whether or not he liked it. Draco continued to trail down, kissing sensually, more than a peck but without tongue. Slowly, as he trailed from Harry's diaphragm down, he slipped off Harry's pants, planning on kissing him there, too, but finding as he placed his mouth close that he had a very strong aversion to the erection. He swallowed, looking up at Harry as Harry breathed deeply, looking at his partner with a thick, needy desperation.

Draco let spit trail from his mouth to his partner's extremity. He stroked it, finding that this didn't disgust him, only made him a bit uncomfortable; but, his attraction to the boy was so strong, he didn't mind. Harry tentatively took hold of Draco's long, slightly thick member, uncircumcised, and smiled anxiously.

"I don't think we need lube if you're- you know- uncut."

"Oh," Draco said, looking down. He spread Harry's legs wider, found his aversion also did not allow him to touch Harry- back there. Draco's face turned red, and he pulled back slightly, looking and thinking.

He liked girls. Draco'd always known that. So, then, how was he so attracted to Harry? He couldn't even bring himself to touch him.

"Let me watch you," He said. "Get yourself ready for me." Harry blushed, looking away.

"I-I-" Harry swallowed. "I don't want to." He admitted.

"I don't, either," Draco allowed himself to confess. "I mean- I want to, like, be in you, but not… Not with my fingers."

Harry laughed gently. "Then, just, do it," Surprise filled Draco.

"Are you sure? It's going to hurt…"

"Yes, Malfoy. Please, just get it done." Harry was red in the face, so Draco nodded and put himself above Harry once more. He spits on his hand, then added it to the lubrication he'd already produced, and felt Harry grumble.

"I'm not a girl," He said. "Don't- I changed my mind. I need to be in some other position."

Draco chuckled, pulling up, and Harry went onto his knees. After a moment, he sighed, and turned, dropping onto all fours.

"Are you ready now?" Draco asked, his hands finding a place on Harry's stomach.

"Yeah," said Harry after a moment. Slowly, Draco pushed against his opening, hearing Harry breathing in sharply through his teeth.

"Just tell me…" Draco said as his tip went into Harry, trying very hard not to slam in right away. "... If I need to stop." After Harry stopped squeezing Draco, he pushed in all the way, to ready Harry before actually taking him.

"I'm ready," whispered Harry a few minutes later. Draco began.

At first, it was nothing more than sex. But Harry started to whimper again, pressing back and doing- things- to Draco that the latter couldn't even comprehend. He leaned forward then, holding his partner, and found that it was much more enjoyable that way. Soon, Draco lost himself, unable of coherent thought as he took the man he'd dreamed of before he fully understood what it was to dream of someone. Harry cried out often, soon collapsing on his elbows, a hand sliding back to grip Draco's hair, holding him close. Draco pleased Harry with one hand, the other twisting at Harry's nipples. Harry's mouth found Draco's, and with how overwhelmed the taller boy was, he simply followed Harry's lead.

They finished together, something neither of them had done for a great while, and collapsed together, Draco scooting over so that he only half covered Harry, holding him tightly. He wedged part of his large blanket under them, to cover their mess, and enveloped them with the rest. Harry twisted slightly under Draco, and there they slept until long past the time both of them should've woken.


	2. Harry's Point of View

Harry always felt like a burden to Ron and Hermione nowadays- especially Ron. It must be awkward for him to be best friends with the guy your kid sister was leaving... For a git like Dean Thomas.  
He walked beside Ron towards the bus stop. Harry'd gotten the house in Godric's Hollow- it had been his parents', after all- but since Ginny'd gotten the kids, it was pointless and very, very heartbreaking. He got visitation though, and Ginny was all too willing to invite Harry into her nice, big flat with Dean Thomas. Ron and Hermione were staying over tonight, though, since Rosie and little Hugo were at Mrs. Weasley's for the weekend. He and Ron each carried a takeout bag from McDonald's; one held Harry's and Ron's, the other Hermione's. With his age, the ginger had lost his appetite, much to Hermione's relief.  
Harry looked at the bus stop to see someone leaning on the clear wall, smoking.  
"Is that..." Hermione began, squinting. She honestly needed to get new glasses. "Is that Draco Malfoy?"  
Harry watched as the man who was, indeed, Draco Malfoy turn around at the sound of his name, see them, and look casually away.  
Harry examined him quickly. He'd grown even taller since the last time he'd seen Draco, and Harry probably only came to the middle of his forehead. His hair was cut shorter, slicked back like when they were young. His fair skin looked tan despite the lack of light, and his hair looked lighter. He wore a black suit jacket and dress pants, and a cigarette was in his hand. He looked older, angry... Manlier. Bitterness, too, sat on his handsome face. The trio walked past Harry's former rival and sat on the bench inside the small shelter, Harry the farthest from Malfoy.  
Harry sat awkwardly for a few minutes before piping up. "Ron," He asked his friend. "Do you have the bag with my takeout, or do I?"  
Ron grumbled something and dug out Harry's McDonald's, eyes tired. He knew Draco was making his friend uncomfortable, and he saw Ron's fingeres interlock with Hermione's.  
"Stuff isn't good for you," Draco spoke up, voice charming and much deeper than it had been at 17, much more attractive than it had been, though. Harry shuddered.  
"I don't eat it often," Harry said, looking at Draco, who was slightly obscured by the dirty, cheap plastic he had his shoulder on. He felt his blackberry vibrate in his pocket.  
Draco studied the trio for the first time since their arrival, Hermione, then Ron, and finally- for the longest- Harry.  
But, eventually, the blond looked forward and took out another cigarette. Harry watched the cigarette burn down, Malfoy rarely smoking it.  
"That's not particularly good for you, either," Harry said when it was practically just filter. Draco got the smile of a wounded, dying animal, more bared teeth than smile.  
"Don't you know that you have a lot more to live for than me, Potter?" Draco said before laughing a bitter, bitter laugh. he dropped the dead cigarette and smashed it into the pavement as if it were all the wrong in the world.  
"Why do you say that?" Asked Harry, frowning. He pictured pretty, blond Malfoy with his pretty, blond wife, and two pretty, blond kids in front of pretty Malfoy Manor.  
But Draco gave a laugh that made Harry doubt his vision. "I wonder," cooed Draco in a self-deprecating tone.  
Ron cleared his throat and shifted beside Harry. He was staring forward, obviously uncomfortable. He'd listen to Ron telling him, later, that he should've ignored Draco. Hermione looked at Malfoy, who sneered as he looked away. She probably wore the pity face again...  
No one spoke until the bus arrived about ten minutes later, but Harry never stopped watching Draco as the former ate Chicken McNugget and the latter smoked away in the moonlight.  
Draco shot onto the bus, but the trio was close behind and Hermione paid the driver first; Draco was still fumbling in his pockets when Harry led them to the back.  
His house was an hour away on this route, and the trio chatted happily about their earlier, easier Hogwarts years and briefly about Hermione's seventh year, though everyone expertly avoided the subject of Ginny.  
However, about forty-five minutes into the ride, Draco began to stand.  
An odd urge came over Harry and before he could think better of it, he stood and handed his bag to Hermione.  
"I've got some business here in town," Harry said. "I'll take another bus; you two just go and get settled."  
"Harry-" Ron began.  
"I'll be home soon!" Harry said, jogging off the train.  
Harry followed Draco for about ten minutes in the early autumn chill, zipping up his old jacket. They walked from the expensive condos, to the cheap ones, to the average flats, to atrocious, run down tenements, and beyond. With more than a little surprise, Harry followed Draco Malfoy into the crappiest apartment building he'd ever seen, and up decrepit stairs to the top floor.  
Malfoy fumbled with a large key ring. "Draco," Harry said from a few meters behind him, and the blond startled, dropping his keys. The blond let out a slew of curses, some of which Harry hadn't actually heard before- and Harry'd heard a lot. He wondered what kind of life Malfoy'd been living as he bent to pick his keys up for him; he had been the reason they'd been dropped. He stood and held them out, wearing a friendly smile, and realising he was quite close to Draco.  
"Potter?" Draco asked, looking down- Harry briefly remembered a time when he had been taller than his Slytherin counterpart.  
"You can call me Harry, you know," Harry tried to chuckle it, but he was feeling particularly out of place. He daresay the building was worse off than his old cupboard at his aunt and uncle's; to distract himself, Harry made a mental note to call Dudley later. After the war, they'd gotten in touch, and when they discovered his daughter Petunia was a muggleborn, they'd actually become close. He also thought of little Harry, who looked like a thin version of young Dudley... He wasn't ugly, actually, and his eyes reminded him of the man now in front of him.  
In the eyes that Harry Dursley's reminded him of, something changed, but the child's namesake didn't notice until Draco took a step closer to him.  
"Potter-" the blond gasped desperately, in the way not unlike how he used to gasp Ginny's after she came back from her Quidditch tours, and Harry knew Draco wanted him. He leaned back, almost gasping himself as memories of romantic dreams from Hogwarts rushed into him.  
But Draco swallowed what had just come over him and took a large step back, swallowing and closing his eyes for a long time, until the Potter boy unlocked the flat for him.  
"May I come in?" Harry asked hesitantly as Draco strolled in, looking exhausted.  
"If you must," said Draco in a tired, slightly irritated voice. Harry came in and noticed the flat itself wasn't bad, just small and monochrome. There was no dresser, only a pile of monochrome clothes on the floor, and a large window showed a well enough skyline. In the distance, Harry swore he could see the church of Godric's Hollow, a seven-minute fly from here.  
"How's Ginny?" Draco asked in a voice presumably to start conversation. Harry knew he must have been raised with hosting skills ground into him.  
Harry instinctively pulled away, into himself. The sadness and love had faded into bitter dislike, but that was something Harry did not want to feel for his ex. "Oh. We... We're not-" He looked away from Draco. "We're divorcing." He thought of the last vision he'd had of his kids- James holding Lily while Albus peeked over his arm, watching their father leave. "She got the kids," he said sadly.  
Draco looked at Harry for the first time since the raven-hair had entered the flat. "What are they like? The children,"  
Harry laughed quietly, fondly, and sat on the bed without permission. "Well, James is the oldest, he's five. He's very- bold. Silly. Bossy. He loves Quidditch. Albus, he's only three, but he's very smart. Lily, she's two, and she's very girly and quiet and easy to handle." Harry looked up at Draco. "What about you? Do you have..." He glanced around and immediately blushed.  
"Yeah. Scorpius. He's, uh, three now. He lives with my mother and father, because I'm not a good father and Astoria... She just wants to forget me, I suppose." Draco smiled softly, and Harry felt a little flutter in his stomach. "He looks like me." Harry pictured young Draco and slowly grinned. Neither spoke again for a few minutes; Harry had no response, and the silence was kind of nice.  
"Are you hungry? Thirsty?" Draco asked, and Harry thought.  
"I could do with some water, if you would," Harry said before Draco stood and took two of those little glasses out, the kind one drank jack or vodka from, but he thought it wasn't a shot? Harry didn't know much about different types of glasses. One was nearly filled with water, the other with an amber liquid, some sort of alchohol.  
"Rough day?" Harry asked as he sipped the water politely.  
"Rough decade," chuckled Draco before downing half of the glass' contents like a pro. Harry felt the sting for him.  
"What happened to you, Malfoy?" Harry breathed quietly, sadness tainting his plain face. Draco hooted a dry, pained laugh, one that turned Harry's stomach.  
"I don't know, Potter," Draco was staring at Harry's feet, a far-away, broken gaze in his shimmering, silver eyes, and Harry was overwhelmed with a feeling it took him a moment to place and want. "I wish I knew."  
Harry shifted under the weight of the desire that he couldn't shake off anymore, then tugged Draco by the shirtsleeve. The latter gulped the rest of the contents of his glass and sat beside his company.  
"I'm sorry, Draco," Harry said as quietly as he could, half hoping his host wouldn't hear. He'd known life for Slytherins and Death Eaters had gotten very, very bad after the war, but he didn't think anyone'd had it this bad- especially not Malfoy, who- upon Harry's reflections- hadn't been all that bad a person.  
Draco laughed at Harry's apology. "What ever for?" Draco asked bitterly, and the look of overwhelming hatred and anger was born in his eyes, the same kind that he'd used to hold, in the later Hogwarts years.  
"For that.," Harry managed when the look passed. Then, he gave a resigned laugh. "I hated you, too." he admitted under his breath.  
"I never hated you, Potter," Draco corrected. "Despised you? Maybe. Envied you. Wanted- well, I don't know what I wanted, but I neevr hated you."  
Wanted? Harry had wanted him, too, during the late nights of fourth and fifth and sixth years, fantasized and dreamed. He was the only boy Harry's ever wanted, except for- briefly- Bill Weasley, who'd been the first one to find him crying after he'd seen Ginny and Dean kissing after he'd gone to surprise her during her visit to Fleur.  
"You- envied me?" Harry tried to make the edited question seem natural; he didn't want it to seem like he'd ever wanted the boy. He hadn't even known if that had been what he'd say... And the Gryffindor was not feeling very brave.  
"You were... perfect. The Chosen One, the Quidditch star, the good boy everyone loved. How could someone- especially someone like how I was- not be jealous of that?"  
Confusion and sadness overwhelmed the man who'd sprouted from the Boy Who Lived. The strong desire pushed itself into Harry's eyes, but he couldn't care less. "How you, were?" He still seemed like... Malfoy.  
"I've grown up, if only a slight bit." Harry couldn't resist clenching Draco's bicep gently, but the latter shrugged his suit jacket off, revealing tense, pale muscles.  
He had darker, courser hair on his arms and muscles that looked bulging on his lithe frame. His hair was loosening from it's slicked-back 'do, and his face was a lot older. Harry pictured the Draco he'd last seen and realized... They looked completely different.  
"You seem much more grown up," Harry said, unforced humor tickling his voice. Draco pondered that a moment.  
"Is that a compliment?" Draco turned his face from in front of them the the shorter boy who was a mere few centimeters from him. Their arms almost touched. Harry smiled as widely as he had probably since Lily's birth.  
"If you'd like it to be one," Harry said. Draco got a small smile and found his eyes wandering away from Harry once more. He'd developed an issue with eye contact, apparently, and bitterly he rubbed the faded Dark Mark on his arm. He wondered how often Muggles complimented it... Had he not known its origins, he may have, too.  
"I think I would," Draco breathed in a barely-audible voice, and Harry felt the desire in his host before he saw it. The Gryffindor sucked in a slow, quiet, deep breath.  
"Draco," Harry whispered needily.  
"Don't," Draco said suddenly, but the want still radiated off of him like heat in waves.  
"Don't what?"  
"Just, don't,"  
Harry gave Draco a desperate look before letting all of his want and his need for the Slytherin slide onto his face- after all, this was all he'd ever wanted, right in front of him. He was a Gryffindor, wasn't he? He pressed his lips to the taller boy's and Draco gasped through his nose, eyes squeezing shut just as Harry's own fluttered shut. He wasn't kissing back- why wasn't he kissing back? Unsurely, the Chosen One continued to kiss at Draco's upper lip before moving his hands up to hold Malfoy's face; was Harry a rubbish kisser?  
Suddenly, however, the receiver of the attack surged to life and took Harry's bottom lip between his own. Arms wrapped around Harry as the two boys twisted to face each other on the bed. Their tongues began to dance, and it was a completely different experience than with Ginny, or Cho, or Harry's many post-divorce one night stands, or Harry's wildest fantasies. Draco's tongue was thin and agile, just like Harry's and snogged quite well. he tasted mildly of chemical and burnt leather, and hints of mint were painted on his cheeks. They drank from one another, a surprising lack of spit pouring into Harry's mouth; that had always been his least favorite part of snogging.  
Harry pushed himself on top of Draco, still clinging to the pretty-turned handsome face. Harry heard himself making noises he'd never made before, almost similar to a girl. Draco's long, elegant fingers tickling his back made him wild, and soon Harry's shirt was all the way up to his armpits. Harry let go of Draco's face to grip the hips that failed to grind up into him the way he wanted, and dug his fingers in curiously, earning him the hottest growl Harry'd ever heard. Harry wondered if he'd get to top Draco, then realised that sex with the man would have to be either oral or anal. He definitely wanted to be the receiver of both.  
Harry pulled reluctantly off of his Slytherin lover, laying in the middle of the bed, and pulled a very willing Draco on top, resuming the clawing of his hips and spreading his legs wide, which felt kind of odd and, again, kind of like a girl.  
"How far can I go," Draco growled after a few more minutes of snogging, when Harry'd begun to the feel the throbbing of his blond top against his own straining bulge.  
"All the way," gasped Harry, feeling intoxicated, wriggling under Draco- like a girl. He was all but panting, and he saw Draco give a small, fond smile behind his half-lidded eyes, and Draco's own eyes scrunched up. The not-so rich boy removed Harry's glasses and set them somewhere before taking off his own shirt. His arms were strong, but his stomach held only the whispers of muscles, his pecks starting to sag at the delicate age of twenty seven. Draco went for Harry's polo- the latter didn't remember taking his jacket off- and it caught of his ear. They laughed together, something that made Harry's heart dance, and when it was done, Harry shyly undid Draco's belt.  
"I've never done anything with a guy," Harry stuttered, feeling anxiety build up.  
"Me, either," Draco said, and that comforted him a bit. The Slytherin pushed his slacks down and moved to the edge of the bed to strip to nothing but his boxers, a dark navy that made him look paler. Harry stripped down, too, tossing his shoes near Draco's and everything else nearby, until he was in white socks and red whitey tighties. Draco smiled at the sight of them, but frowned at his socks.  
"Why're you in socks?" His voice was almost offended, and Harry resisted the urge to laugh aloud.  
"What?" He asked instead, then shrugged at them. Draco sighed and took them off for him; Dobby would be rolling in his grave, Harry thought. Draco kneeling in between Harry's knees.  
"Nothing," Draco was grinning. "Do I need- lubricant?"  
"I'd bloody well think so," snorted Harry. If, of course, Draco's goal was to not rip his lover to shreds. Draco laughed at Harry.  
"Will saliva work for that? Or do I- I don't have anything else."  
"Just," Harry started, shifting, thinking. "Do you have a pre-lubricated condom?"  
"I don't have any condoms," Draco frowned, and Harry nearly smiled, choosing to believe Harry was Draco's first in a while rather than the latter didn't feel the need to make sure he didn't impregnate the women he took. But then, Harry sighed.  
"Then, yeah, I reckon spit would work." Harry would not enjoy this session.  
Draco put his hands on Harry's bent, knobbly knees and glanced at Harry's now half-hard erection. He stroked Harry's legs sensually, then purposefully avoided his y-fronts to his smooth stomach. Harry's underpants stirred once more as cool, thin fingers tickled him. He brushed over Harry's small nipples and slid his hands to the sides of Harry, holding, before leaning down to kiss his collarbone. Harry buried his fingers into the white hair, destroying the style happily. Draco kissed up Harry's neck to snog him once more, exploring the bottom's mouth until Harry was again throbbing in his pants, up into Draco's stomach. Draco travelled back down to Harry's slightly hairy chest to kiss each of his nipples without tongue. Harry hissed in a breath and decided after a moment that he liked the attention very, very much. But Draco continued down, slowly stripping Harry of his last bit of clothing, and his 15 cm sprung free quite happily, a brilliant rose tip facing him from his tummy.  
Harry didn't miss the borderline cringe Draco got when his eyes met Harry's member, and nearly started crying; he needed to feel something there.  
Spit fell from Draco's mouth and Harry nearly purred; he did let out noises as Draco started pumping him. He looked down to slip down Draco's own shorts and take his 23 cm, thick member in his own hand, finding a slight attraction to it; maybe, if he and Draco stayed in contact, he would be on the giving end of oral. He had a little hood over the tip of him, pale and veiny, and Harry smiled... Uncut members made their own lube, didn't they?  
"I don't think we need lube if you're- y'know- uncut."  
"Oh," Draco said plainly. Harry was happy the top didn't have to spit on his arse. The Slytherin opened Harry's legs a bit more and made the cringe-face, and Harry was reminded disdainfully that he hadn't showered since last night... But he was clean down there. His face tinged as he was reminded of his girly position beneath the hunky blond.  
Draco blushed, too, and Harry saw almost disgust in his face. Was Draco straight? Was Harry? What were they doing?  
"Let me watch you," Draco said suggestively. "Get yourself ready for me." Harry blushed darker and moved his eyes.  
There was no way in hell Harry was doing that. "I-I." Harry started. "I don't want to."  
"I don't either," Draco forced out, very reluctantly. "I mean- I want to, like, be in you, but not… Not with my fingers."  
Harry gave a laugh at the admission. "Then just do it," Harry said bravely.  
"Are you sure? It's going to hurt," Draco confirmed.  
"Yes, Malfoy," Harry forced himself to be as emotionless as possible. "Please, just get it done."  
Harry felt his face burning, and was pushed over the edge when Draco spat on his hand and rubbed in onto his length, the way Harry always did.  
"I'm not a girl," snapped Harry. "Don't- I changed my mind. I need to be in some other position."  
Draco chuckled nervously and helped Harry up. Harry shifted before reluctantly dropping to his hand and knees. Doggy it had to be. "Are you ready now?" Draco asked, hands spreading themselves on Harry's stomach. He re-hardened instantly at the sensation.  
"Yeah," Harry allowed after a moment of mental preparation. Harry felt Draco push at his opening, not roughly but certainly not gently. Harry breathed as the band argued against the moist invasion.  
"Just tell me," breathed Draco as the tip was swallowed by Harry's body, and the latter tensed as the pain slowly melted away. "If I need to stop." Harry eventually felt himself loosen around his pitcher, and Draco sailed himself home, fitting all the way inside the boy, brushing against some spot in Harry.  
He stayed still in Harry until the latter realized he was waiting for permission to continue. "I'm ready," Harry urged. Draco began to move.  
It felt odd to Harry, but now, it didn't really hurt. He kind of liked it, he decided, as Draco's veiny length stroked his prostate. Soon, Harry was moaning and pushing back to feel Draco's body against his own, to feel utterly full. His body was clenching down, making Draco feel even more massive inside of him. Soon, Draco leaned forward to cling desperately to Harry; who was the girl now? Harry thought in the back of his mind. Draco was moaning and grunting even louder and more often than Harry, who lost his grip and fell forward onto his elbows, bum in the air against Draco's hips. One forarm pulled Draco closer by the hair, and Draco reached around to stroke Harry's half-hard member and twist pleasantly at his nipples. Harry snogged Draco, who tried to kiss back until just letting Harry explore his mouth, but leaned forward more so Harry didn't have to strain back.  
Not long after they came together, Draco into Harry and Harry onto the sheet. Harry collapsed into his mess and Draco's present leaked from him, until Draco wrapped them in a blanket and curled against Harry. They fell asleep soon after and slept until noon.


End file.
